“But sir? My ice cream?”
“No way. You didn't follow through, so no ice cream for you.”
Lisa's head fell back, and something almost akin to anger surged through her, but she was too tired to experience it. All she was consciously aware of was that she hadn't gotten her ice cream. What did she have to do to get her ice cream? She wanted that coffee fudge. Why had she said she was cold? What was a little coldness, if she could have had ice cream? Lisa sighed loudly.
She realized Gilbert was watching her. What did he want? In some ways Gilbert had ceased to be real for her. He was the entity, the presence, who decided when she could eat or drink, when she would be fucked, or beaten, or allowed to sleep. He was all-powerful in her life now. Her life had shrunk to her little dark prison, with its mattress, its metal bowl and its trunk full of whips and chains.
Of course, sometimes she got to come out. Like now, tied down on the kitchen table, but with a belly full of steak, with the heat of the wine coursing pleasantly through her veins. And the retreating promise of ice cream.
“Please sir,” she ventured. “What must I do for my ice cream?”
“Well,” Gilbert said, pretending to ponder, though she was certain he already had a new torture in mind. “Since you couldn't handle the cold very well, let's try some heat. I'll drip hot wax on your body, and if you take it like a proper sub, and don't whine and whimper about it, maybe I'll relent, despite your bad behavior, and let you have your coffee fudge.”
Hot wax. How bad could that be? Lisa used to play with candles as a kid, dipping her fingers into the melted pools of fragrant wax, making little caps for her fingertips. It had been fun. She could do that. Especially for ice cream.
“Yes, I'll be good. I promise.”
Gilbert lit two long red candles. Lisa stared at the flames a moment, then let her head fall back, closing her eyes. He held the candles over her belly at first, letting the hot drops land in a splatter around her bellybutton. Lisa jerked slightly, but otherwise was still and quiet.
He moved the candle upward, letting drops of bright red splash and cool against her ribs, then a drop for each nipple. Lisa's eyes opened and she gasped in pain as the melted wax burned the tender buds.
“Ice cream,” Gilbert whispered, and she closed her eyes, a willing victim.
As the wick lengthened, the drops began to fall more quickly, and soon Lisa's torso was speckled with hardened little blobs of the red wax. From a distance it might look like blood.
He moved the candle down lower to her pussy, spread wide by her open legs, still bound to the table. Carefully he held one of the candles over her pubic hair and let the drops fall into the curls. As he moved down toward her bared sex Lisa jerked hard against her ropes. “That hurts!”
“It's supposed to, slave. You're being punished. You couldn't take the ice, so now you'll take the fire.” He held both candles over her bared pussy and as each wax droplet landed, Lisa jerked and cried out. Finally it stopped, but the pain of the burned flesh lingered.
Eventually Lisa stilled, eyes closed, almost forgetting the ice cream, wishing she were back in her safe little room, in the dark, alone. Suddenly where heat had been she felt a numbing cold. Gilbert had taken a piece of ice and was rubbing it up and down her slit, before finally pushing it up into her. Lisa shuddered, straining against the ropes.
Eventually he released her, first her legs, and then her arms. Lisa lay on the table, covered in dried wax, her arms and legs tingling unpleasantly as the blood was allowed to flow back into her limbs.
“What a mess you are, pig,” Gilbert observed. “We'll have to scrape that off. I'll leave that to you, once I put you back in your room. If you don't get it all off, you'll be punished again.”
Ice cream? Where was the promised ice cream? She dared, “Please, sir, the ice cream?”
“You and your fucking ice cream! All you ever think about is food. You should only think about me, your lord and master, not filling your belly with sweets and junk! You are not at all obedient. You just perform for food.”
Lisa sat up, not liking the turn of this diatribe. How could he be so unfair? He'd promised, if she took the ice, and then the wax, she could have ice cream. A part of her, a little corner of her mind still unsullied by the constant torture and deprivation, was shouting at her to recover her dignity. Fuck the ice cream! Don't give the man the satisfaction of playing you like that! But the little cries were lost, an echo in the cavern of her new diminished self.
Except for that little voice of reason, that tiny part of her still able to protest and think, Lisa's world had indeed shrunk to serving her lord and master. Though not as he intended, perhaps. She didn't obey out of devotion or even a basic desire to submit. She performed for food and drink, as he had said, and to avoid pain and drown herself in sexual pleasure. What else was there? What else could she hope for?
To escape! The little voice cried inside of her brain, but it was lost on the winds of despair.
~*~
When Gilbert entered her room the next day, Lisa had succeeded in getting most of the wax off her body. Little red circles remained. Pulling the wax from her tender nipples had hurt. Though the wax had burned her pussy as well, it was easier to remove from the lubricated folds of her labia. Her pubic hair was another matter. Try as she might, Lisa couldn't get all the little globules of hardened wax out of her curls.
“Stand up for inspection!” She stood, covering her pubic hair with her hands, in a futile effort to hide her failure. Gilbert slapped at her hands until she dropped them at her sides.
Grabbing her pubic hair and pulling hard, he demanded, “What's this? You're still a mess! Couldn't follow a simple order!” As he spoke, Gilbert gripped a blob of hardened wax, eliciting a squeal of pain from Lisa as he pulled out the hair along with it.
“Well, you've made a mess of this,” he said unfairly. “Guess we'll just have to cut it all off. I've been thinking of doing that away. Shaving you bald. You'll feel the whip better that way, and my tongue.”
At the mention of his tongue, Lisa's pussy moistened in a conditioned response. Maybe he was right! He could get at her tender sweet spots better without hair in the way.
Grabbing hold of her pubic hair, Gilbert led his slave to the bathroom, tugging cruelly as he went. He had her sit on the toilet lid while he went to fetch scissors. Naturally, he kept nothing in the bathroom for a disobedient slave to make improper use of.
He returned in a moment, grasping her nether curls and shearing them until he'd done as much as he could with the scissors. Lisa tried to sit very still, afraid of a slip of the pointy, sharp blades.
He ran the water in the sink until it was hot, and dropped a washcloth under the tap. Wringing it out, he placed it on the newly shorn mons while he got a razor and some shaving cream. Gilbert shaved Lisa's legs and underarms regularly, and she was used to his ministrations. She had come to accept the treatment along with everything else he did to her.
But her pussy was another matter, and Lisa bit her bottom lip, sitting still as a statue as the cold blade touched her skin. With surprising gentleness, Gilbert ran the razor over the cream-covered area until Lisa was smooth and soft as a new baby.
Rinsing the washcloth again in hot water, he gently wiped the area clean of any remaining shaving cream and stood back to inspect her.
“Very nice,” he murmured. “Very, very sexy. I want to eat you now. Right now.” Kneeling again between her knees, Gilbert stuck out his tongue and licked at the smooth mons just above the labia. Spreading her lips with his hands, he leaned in and began to kiss and lick her pussy. Lisa sighed with pleasure and scooted forward a little on the toilet seat to give him better access.
It felt heavenly. The warm velvet pleasure his tongue was painting over her seemed magnified by her newly shorn state. She could feel every lick, every butterfly flick that sent spirals of pure sexual delight right to her bones.
Head back, mouth open in a perfect O, Lisa's sighs becam
e one long keen of rapture as he tongued her to a steamy orgasm. Before her body had finished its post-orgasmic shuddering, Gilbert lifted the slave to her feet and scooped her into his arms.
Walking along the hallway he whispered into her ear, “That was the pleasure. Now comes the pain.”
Gilbert forced Lisa to bend over a low stool, her back balanced on it, the back of her head touching the floor. “Do I have to tie your legs open, or do you have the discipline to hold them open while I whip your cunt?”
“I don't know, sir,” Lisa answered truthfully. She didn't want this whipping. It was going to hurt all the more on her shaven pussy, she knew, just as the kisses had been all the more sweet.
“Well, we'll start with you holding yourself open. Put a hand on each thigh and spread yourself as wide as you can. I'm going to use the little flogger, the pussy whip. If you take your beating like a good little sub, you'll get a reward. If you don't, you'll get a double whipping.”
A reward. Lisa was now totally motivated by such offers, and she put a hand on each thigh and spread her most delicate parts for the sadist to whip. The lash struck softly at first, little more than a gliding stroke of the soft suede tresses. But quickly the intensity increased, and soon Lisa was crying out and writhing, though somehow she managed to keep herself open to the torture.
Gilbert wasn't going to allow her to succeed, however. He continued to hit her, harder and harder, until one especially savage blow forced her legs shut. She rolled off the low stool, crying in earnest, begging him to stop, please stop.
Gilbert left the room a moment and returned with an apple, neatly sliced and arranged on a plate. He set it on the floor near Lisa. Next to it he placed a bottle of cold water. Lisa's last food had been the night before, and it was now late afternoon. While he was feeding her more regularly than he had been, he never gave her quite enough, and she was never truly sated.
She opened her eyes. She was still lying on her side in a fetal position, her hands buried between her legs, soothing her ravaged sex. She eyed the apple hungrily. It looked beautiful, like an exotic flower, the petals spread in a circle on the plate, the core upright at their center.
She hadn't kept her legs open, but here was an apple and some water! Gilbert was so wonderful! He had relented and given his slave something for nothing. She smiled at him and started to reach for the food, a thank you on her lips.
Gilbert bent down and slapped her hand away. “What are you doing, cunt? That's not for you!” Lisa drew her hand back, confused. Gilbert went on, his cruel game unfolding. “You knew the rules. Take the whipping, get the reward. But you failed. Failed miserably. You're just a sex slut. You haven't learned the pleasure of pain yet. The sublime pleasure of giving in to it. Until you get there, you won't be a proper submissive. You'll just be my slave and my cunt.
“I put the apple there to teach you another lesson. This apple is what you can be. But right now you're just this.” He plucked the core from the dish and dropped it on the floor in front of her. It rolled toward her, lightly touching her thigh.
“Lie on your back and spread your legs. Let's see your cunt.” Slowly Lisa obeyed, tears stinging her eyelids at the denial of the fruit and water so close by. She could smell the lovely tangy aroma of the apple, and her mouth watered as it primed itself for something that wasn't forthcoming.
Gilbert knelt in front of his slave and pushed her legs farther open, leaning in close to examine her reddened, whipped pussy. “Very nice,” he said, his cock hardening and lengthening in his pants. Unzipping them, he stood up and pulled it out. Slowly pumping it with one hand he said, “Remember the ruler, Slave Jade? Remember your email about how hot it made you? Do it again, Jade. Smack yourself. Use your hand, the palm, and do it!”
Lisa stared at Gilbert, confused. Slave Jade. Who was that? Dimly she remembered, the tortured fog in her brain clearing for just a second. Slave Jade and Master John. The dream world online.
And this man was that man.
It had been a mistake to remind her, because a few of the switches in her psyche that had been shut down in self-defense, clicked back on. Lisa experienced an emotion she hadn't felt for some time—anger.
She stared at Gilbert. This was the man who had betrayed her. Tricked her with romantic promises and lies, and then stalked her and stolen her life. Gilbert didn't see the flash of anger that sparked in Lisa's eyes. He was watching her pussy, as he rubbed himself harder and faster.
“Slap yourself, bitch!” he yelled. Lisa lifted a hand and let it drop unconvincingly against her naked sex. “Harder! Do it harder or I'll do it for you!” Lisa hit herself again, harder, actually hurting the delicate flesh that was still smarting from the whipping.
“Yes,” Gilbert said, his voice thick with lust as he jerked himself off over her. “Again! Harder! Don't stop, don't stop!” Gilbert was panting, and in a moment he shot his sticky load onto Lisa's belly and hand, which covered her mons as she slapped herself for his pleasure and her pain.
Tucking his cock back into his pants, Gilbert zipped up, retrieved the apple and water and strode from the room, locking the door behind him. The room was plunged into darkness.
Lisa ran her hands carefully over the floor, at last finding the forgotten apple core. Crawling to her mattress, she ate it.
Chapter 10
Gilbert was watching TV. In his lap was a large bowl of popcorn, sprinkled with salt and melted butter. Lisa knelt at his feet, her hands bound behind her back, her legs spread so he could see her shaved pussy.
They were playing what Gilbert called the “slapping game”. Every time he slapped her, if Lisa took it with grace, he'd toss her a piece of popcorn. A can of Coke sat on the coffee table, with a straw sticking out the opening.
Gilbert slapped Lisa's face, the sound resounding in the small room. Her cheek reddened, but she barely noticed as he tossed a piece of the corn in the air. She was focused on catching it with her mouth. If she missed it, she was allowed to bend down, arms tied behind her, and pick it off the rug with her mouth. But it got fuzzy that way. Much better to catch it the first time.
She got it, and grinned triumphantly. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, Gilbert thought to himself. This bitch wouldn't have given him the time of day if he'd tried to meet and date her in the normal way. She'd have tossed her hair and looked down her nose at him and told him she didn't do mercy dates.
Now look at her, naked and bound, exposing herself shamelessly for him, eager and thankful for a fucking piece of popcorn. He grinned back at her, and tossed another piece.
This time Lisa missed it, and bent forward to try and get it. “No, leave it,” Gilbert said. “Take a sip of that Coke and then I'll let you stick your face right in the bowl, after I smack you good. You know the drill, no pain, no gain.”
Lisa did know the drill, and accepted it now, as part of her life, as the only way to survive. Eagerly she leaned over and sucked as much of the soda as she could before Gilbert pulled the can away.
“Slow down, save some for later. This is all you're getting, so pace yourself.” She sat back, her expression blank. Gilbert slapped one heavy breast, and then the other. “Oh!” Lisa cried, moving back a little at the force of his blows. He struck her several more times, liking the slapping sound, and the way those big tits jiggled together when he hit them. Some serious breast torture was in order, but first, more fun with the popcorn.
“Okay, stick your face in the bowl. You can eat as much as you can till I call time. Ready, go!” Lisa dipped her head in the popcorn bowl, snuffling like a pig. He watched her a while with amused contempt, his cock hard as steel.
When he decided she’d had enough, he barked, “Time! That's it.”
Obediently she sat back. Her cheeks were covered in butter grease, her hair falling into her face. She eyed the Coke can thirstily.
“Go ahead, take a drink. Then it's time for some real fun. I'm going to whip you into shape and then take my doggie bitch for a walk!”
Lis
a barely noticed the slur. She didn't care what he called her, as long as he took care of her and fed her, and didn't beat her too severely. She drained the can, and this time he let her. She sat docilely as he wiped her face with a wet paper towel.
He led her to her prison and told her to stand still in the middle of the room. Going to the footlocker, he removed several items, including the little stepladder. Locking her wrists in the leather cuffs, he bound them together in front of her, secured them to a chain and forced her arms high over her head.
He produced the nipple clamps, which he had used on Lisa before, though not extensively. But this time he had another chain, with a third clip on it. Lisa stood quietly as Gilbert slapped and pulled at her nipples, forcing them erect. He attached the clips, watching the nipples flush a dark rose color as the clamps cruelly compressed them.
Lisa looked down at her tortured nipples, hissing an intake of breath as her nerve endings registered the pain. It dulled to a throb as he attached the second chain to a little loop on the first, and brought it down to her pussy. With a light kick to her ankle, Gilbert made Lisa spread her legs farther apart. Opening the little clamp, he pulled at the little hood of her clit and snapped the teeth shut on it.
Lisa screamed. The pain seared through her pussy and up into her brain. It burned and stung and she jerked back sharply. “No!” she cried, and as she jerked, she managed to shake the clamp loose, and it fell, dangling from the first chain, whose teeth still held her nipples tight.
“How dare you!” Gilbert shouted, his face close to hers. “How dare you pull away like that! Don't you ever,” his words were punctuated with a slap to her face, “ever pull away from me again! Who do you think you are? If I decide you can take something, you damn well take it, or pay the consequences!” He pulled her close to him, and again kicked her ankle.
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